Housewarming
by RochelleRene
Summary: Huddy sex and love, major SMUT; Written b/t eps. 7X3 and 7X4; After seeing 7X4, felt it was "right."  Hope you do too;  My first fanfic ever, so please review so I know if I should continue; Thanks to all the other writers whose stories inspired me to try


Cuddy's den was warm from the fire. She had put Rachel to bed and House was stretched on the sofa, wire-rimmed glasses on, reading with a slight frown on his face. She watched him for a moment, loving him just being there in her house, but unsure what to do next. It was still so weird, even after months. She still felt shy and edgy alone with him at first. Work was easy – innuendo, fighting, stolen passionate moments - but "home" life was still tricky. He was like living with a tamed-but-wild animal. He was still screwed-up, moody House, which made it hard to know what he would do moment to moment.

She sat on his lap with a tired sigh and he reached down and put his hand on her thigh, lightly rubbing her with his thumb but never looking up from his reading. He loved being in the same room with her. Just touching her made him want her all the more, but he had to play it cool. Tonight, he wanted to take his time and play with her mind as much he wanted to play with her body. Cuddy was holding a glass of ice water she brought in and he reached out for it, took a gulp, and handed it back without a word. She loved when he was all "nest-y" like this and she was prepared to just read or watch TV or vege out with him for the night.

"What are you reading?" she asked, not really caring, but wanting to talk to him.

"It's a letter from Thirteen," he murmured, still reading. "She says she left because her lustful passion for me was too much to resist, but she heard about us and knows you're a psycho bitch who could destroy her."

Cuddy smiled. She could see from there that it was actually an article from a medical journal. "Well that's good," she replied, "I don't need another thing to do."

"That's what I said," he replied, still not looking up. She was about to tell him that she was going to go change – she was still in her work clothes – when he beat her to it.

He looked up suddenly and said, "Got an idea," while tossing his reading aside and removing his glasses. He had a smirk and the slightest arch in his brow, so she knew it was gonna be something she needed to be convinced to do. Strangely, from under the sofa he pulled the most battered old box of a board game. "Sorry, Cuddy." She stared at the old box of "Sorry," then looked up at him. He had caused her a lot of shit that week – somehow flooding a men's room to pull a prank on Wilson she still didn't quite understand, pissing off a patient's father by accusing him of cheating on his wife (though House was right, per usual) - just the usual House crap. Granted, he had done sweet things too – leaving a lunch on her desk during a particularly crazy day (but of course with a note that read, "Don't forget to feed your big ass!") and buying a gift for Rachel (But candy cigarettes? Who even sells those still?). But despite the backrubs or stolen flowers or even the occasional genuine compliments, he still was her biggest headache and never could muster an appropriate apology. She'd have to take what she could get, even board game puns.

"It's fine, House. The week's over," she sighed, sinking deeper into the couch.

"Uh, no… You misunderstand. 'Sorry,' the game. That's my idea." He was serious, not just cleverly apologizing.

"You want to play Sorry?" she asked. He nodded eagerly, like a kid. "It's nine o'clock on a Friday night, we're alone, Rachel's asleep, and you want to play Sorry?" she clarified. He sat up quickly, took her by the arm and started hoisting her off the couch, board game tucked under one arm.

"Yeah! You've obviously played it – Look at this box. Why are you pooping on my party, Cuddy?" he asked, with a pout.

He started spreading out the contents on the floor in front of the fire, lay on his side, and set up the pieces. "What color do you want to be?" he asked. "I'm blue." Of course he picked first, grinning at her, daring her to want to be blue too. Cuddy just couldn't figure this out… There had to me more to this… She remembered then that that was why she loved this crazy relationship. It was nine o'clock on a Friday night and they weren't falling asleep in front of the TV or even getting naked. He was up to something and she had to know what. House, meanwhile, was exercising patience, waiting his plan out. The whole time he was setting up the game, he stared at her legs - gorgeously accentuated by what he knew were black thigh-highs - but he didn't let on.

At first they just played and she was baffled. There was banter and trash talk – about Sorry of all things – but nothing weird. She settled in finally and the thought occurred to her that House was in an uncharacteristically domestic mood. Then House drew a card and was able to move one of his five blue pieces "home." "Hot dog!" he yelled, in an exaggerated southern drawl. Cuddy rolled her eyes and was about to draw her next card when his low gravelly voice said, "Your panties, Cuddy."

She felt a pang of shock – not bad, but uneasy – jolt through her, right to her core. It's not like he hadn't talked about her panties for the last, like, 20 years, but she didn't know where this was coming from and had just let her guard down to play this silly game. "What about them, House?" she quipped back, barely glancing up to try to hide being flustered.

"Take them off," he ordered plainly. She couldn't hide anything from him. He got excited just seeing her response – her surprise, the slight shift of her legs that she made when turned on. She looked up at him quizzically. "Oh, I for-_got_…" he said, hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand, "This is _strip_ Sorry." Cuddy narrowed her eyes at him.

"Strip Sorry…"

"Yeah… Sorry!" he trilled, grinning wickedly at her. God he loved making her speechless. "See, I just got a guy home, so I get to tell you what to take off." They stared at each other, blue eyes to blue eyes, each daring the other to back down. "Your panties, Cuddy."

"Well, now that I know the stakes, watch your back," she warned, reaching up her skirt to wriggle out of her panties. She pulled them down her long, lean legs, maneuvering them over the stilettos she was still wearing. Leave it to House to choose panties first. He just lay there, propped on his elbow, watching her snake bright pink lace down her curves. She saw his eyes just devouring her and she felt another twinge in her core. She knew he had a lot more to this going in his head. She felt that sickly sweet mixture of desire and trepidation deep in her stomach – her "House" feeling.

"Gimme," he said, reaching a hand out. She threw them at him and he just held them, absentmindedly playing with them while he returned to the game board. She had no idea how many of her panties he had by now, and didn't really want to know what he did with them all. By some stroke of luck, her next card allowed her to send a piece "home" too. She grinned at him and arched a brow. He raised an eyebrow in response and grinned back, clearly not the least bit worried.

"Your pants, Dr. House." She imitated him as best she could.

"Can't. That's against the rules," he replied coolly.

"What?" she exclaimed. "House, how is that against the rules?"

He explained, "You can only take off one thing at a time. To take off my pants, I'd have to take off my shoes first. That would be cheating." Cuddy glared at him.

"I kept my shoes on," she protested.

"And I believe your panties slid right on over them, no?" he asked with a lopsided grin. She just stared at him for a moment.

"Fine, House. Shoes," she sulked. He kicked his shoes off, smirking, and continued playing. The game just continued for a few turns, but the energy of the room had changed completely. Cuddy now saw how House kept looking over at her, first at her face, then letting his eyes wander slowly down her body. Her wanting for him was increasing, and she started shifting a bit more.

"Not comfortable, babe?" he asked. "Got an itch I can scratch?" He was always playing with her, teasing her, keeping her on edge. God, she loved it. She just sighed and took her turn, which allowed her to send her second piece home.

"Ah-ha!" she celebrated. "_Now_, your pants, House." His clear blue eyes just stared right into hers as he stood up, undid his fly and dropped his pants to the floor. He didn't care anymore about his scar – she'd seen it hundreds of times. These little moments where he was unguarded are what let her know that he was hers. "Mhm," she sort of sang, triumphantly, staring at crotch of his now-slightly-tight boxer briefs.

"My turn," he said, dropping back to the floor, smacking her hard on the ass as he reached for another card. She was in trouble now – another man home. He looked at her, letting the tension build a bit. Man, he could have just attacked her right then… but he knew the longer he drew out the night, the hotter it would all be. He didn't even say anything, just scooted over to her so that they were lying on their sides, inches away. He slowly started unbuttoning her shirt, carefully and calmly, revealing her matching pink bra. He pulled it out of her skirt's waist and slid it down the back of her shoulders, his thumbs trailing behind so they grazed her skin directly as the fabric was removed. She sucked in her breath, just the littlest bit, and his mouth barely, barely grazed hers. He licked his lips, "accidentally" licking her hers too. Her eyes were closed and she wasn't breathing…

"Your turn!" he declared, jolting her out of that moment as he rolled back to his spot. Dammit. She couldn't even think. That man. She drew again and it was fruitless. He went again and got another piece home.

"You've rigged this!" she accused. "What did you do, set the cards up ahead of time?"

"Don't be such a sore loser, Cuddy," he said, "and take off your bra." She suddenly felt both turned on and shy, like a high schooler. She bit her lip. He raised his eyebrows and gestured with a nod for her to get going. She had to get control of this thing. He couldn't do all the teasing. She reached slowly behind her back and unhooked her bra. Shaking her shoulders a bit, she let it drop off her bouncing breasts with a feathery sound. House stared at her breasts, lit only by the fire and she saw a movement begin in his boxer briefs. No matter how many times he saw them, they were perfect, and he was finding it difficult to remember why he was stretching this game out. She smiled slightly at him, then abruptly rolled onto her belly and kicked her legs up like a kid lying on a bed, hiding her breasts in the rug.

"My turn!" she sang, leaving House to recover his focus after having his precious view suddenly snatched away. Cuddy picked a card, sent a piece home and told House, "Take off your socks. You look silly in socks with no pants." House kicked a leg over to wiggle a foot under her nose, then pulled his sock off and threw it at her. "I'll treasure it," she stated flatly, proud of her idea to frustrate him. His childish antics showed her it got to him.

The play continued for a couple turns when House sent another piece home. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and started to unzip her skirt. He reached over and stopped her, pinning her hand behind her. Then he scooted over to her, lifted her hair with his other hand and began kissing her neck, his stubble rough on her soft skin, his tongue tasting her. God, it was heaven feeling his lips on her finally. The fire was warm on her face and the top of her chest, and his mouth was even hotter against the back of her neck. She let a low purr escape her throat as his mouth slid over to her ear. He was sucking her earlobe now and she felt herself getting shaky and wetter between her legs. Suddenly he stopped and pulled away, smiling. "What?" she asked. He stuck his tongue out and there was her earring.

"The other one too," he demanded, "I took off _both_ socks." She was amazed by his cleverness, but wanted to continue sparring.

"Come get it," she dared.

"Dr. Cuddy," he scolded her and tsked as he came back over to her and straddled her back. She felt his heat above her, and though he held most of his weight on his knees, he made a point of lowering his pelvis enough for her to feel his erection pushing on her back. All he wanted to do was hike her skirt up and fuck her, but messing with her was so erotically fun. As he bent to kiss the other side of her neck, moving her hair aside almost a little violently, she arched her ass up to rub against him. She heard an involuntary growl emerge from the unflappable House as he approached her ear and removed her other earring just as skillfully. Then he ground against her once - long, hard, and slow - then twice… Then he scooted off of her and back to his spot. She wouldn't have believed his restraint if he hadn't teased her like this hundreds of times already since they began this affair.

He smiled at her. It was a great and rare smile that only she got to see. It showed his mischievous intentions, his love for her, and the fact that he was having fun. It was fleeting, however, and morphed into his usual wry grin quickly as he reminded her, "You need to catch up, Cuddy."

It was no use. Cuddy's turn was uneventful and House's next turn took his last piece home. "I win," he said flatly, staring at her.

"Congratulations," she replied, coolly meeting his gaze. He crawled over to her and rolled her over onto her back. God, she was gorgeous. The light from the fire was dancing all over her skin and shining in her eyes. Her mouth was just slightly open and she was breathing hard, causing her breasts to move just slightly. He loved when he had her right here – where she wanted him and was waiting to follow his lead; where she thought she was keeping her cool image intact, but the sweat at her temples, her dilated pupils, and the rise and fall of her chest told him everything. He wanted her constantly – first thing in the morning, catching a glimpse of her in the hospital, arguing with her in her office - but at these moments it was like addiction. He gently kissed her forehead, her nose, her chin, the hollow in her neck. He kissed her toned stomach and then nuzzled his face between her legs, her skirt the only barrier. She put her hands on the back of his head and urged him to continue, but he abruptly stood up.

"Get up," he said cheerfully, like they were going to a movie or something. She was shaky and confused, but excited and curious.

"What's wrong with here?" she whined.

"Nothing," he replied, "but the winner gets to pick the positions and I intend to take advantage of that. I'm a very strategic player." She grinned his devious little grin.

"Position-S?" she asked, noting the plurality.

"Yup," he chimed. "All of them," he added in a slightly lower, gruffer tone. Cuddy came up to her knees in front of him. She ran her hands down his stomach and reached around to his ass. She put her face against him, only a thin piece of fabric separating her mouth from his manhood, and she breathed a slow hot breath against him. House put one hand in her hair and let out a shaky breath. She snuck a hand back around and slipped one finger into his fly and began running it along him. She felt his legs tense and a small groan escaped him. "Cuddy, _I won_," he said, almost whispering with the effort of stopping her, "and I told you to stand up. Cheaters never win." She planted one slow kiss on his penis, through his underwear, and stood up. He took a moment to open his eyes and register that she wasn't down there anymore. He had almost forgotten what he was doing, what with her warm mouth against him and her long soft hair in his hands. He blinked at her, then took both her hands.

She was literally _painfully_ aching for him and could see in his boxers that the feeling was mutual. He walked her just a few feet away to her desk, kicked the chair out with one foot and stood her in front of it. He stared intensely into her eyes as he bent just a bit to reach the hem of her tight skirt. He pulled it up slowly, inch by inch, until it was bunched at her tiny waist. Still staring in his clear, piercing eyes, she felt her sex just dripping from being this close to fucking him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and began grinding her bare pelvis against him, just his boxers separating them. He groaned and let her continue for a few moments, but then he grabbed her hips and held them still. "You know I like to focus on you first," he scolded. She did know that. God, she _loved_ that.

He pushed her down to sit in the chair. Her breath was so shallow and uneven she thought she might faint. House knelt down in front of her, framed between her legs. "Breathe, Lisa," he reminded her. She closed her eyes and took a deep trembling breath. He was just looking at her - just kneeling there moving his eyes up and down her body - and she thought she might come. God, his focus and attention, completely absorbed in admiring her was too much.

He couldn't look at her enough. It was like a visual binge. He reached up and cupped one of her breasts and pressed his other on her thigh. He kissed her hard on the mouth, sucking her bottom lip for moment. Then he kissed down her neck to her breasts. His thumb was stroking her nipple and he moved his mouth to the other, lightly biting and sucking. She felt electricity just shooting through her and she was writhing in the chair. His other hand slowly - painfully slowly - inched toward her slit. She felt a finger just barely graze it. "Please, God. Please, Greg," she begged.

"God can't help you now," House replied smugly, his mouth still on her breast, and he slid two fingers into her. She moaned a long, low moan. Finally, at least part of him was inside of her. She began bucking in the chair, trying to get his fingers moving, but he removed his other hand from her breast and grabbed her hips, steadying her. "Relax, babe," he said. "Let me." He held her as still as he could and began pumping into her at a slow steady pace. When he felt she was ready he added a third finger. He was looking at her beautiful sex, all wet and swollen with wanting for him. He'd get her to where her legs started to tremble and his single arm strength wasn't enough to keep her ass in the chair, then he'd slow, ease off the pressure a bit, bringing her back from the edge.

"I swear I'm losing my mind," she cried out. "Please, please, please."

"Please what?" he asked innocently.

"God, House!" she yelled.

"I want to hear you say it, Cuddy," he told her, which she already knew. He still had to coax these things out of her more-reserved personality, but it was getting easier for him. He loved pushing her to want it more, to want him so badly that she stopped caring about what she looked or sounded like.

She said with a raspy moan, "Please lick me." House immediately began licking her thigh, the place where her leg met her pelvis, her panty line. She let out an exasperated and horny groan.

"I'm sorry," he teased, "Am I not doing it right?" He looked at her eyebrows raised, smirking.

"Please lick my clit, you ass," she said. He smiled widely, loving both that she would talk dirty to him and be so pissed at him. He knew only he could do this to her. Then he leaned in and kissed her clit. "Fuuuck" she moaned. He licked her, he nibbled her, he sucked her, and he continued to move his fingers inside of her. Then he took them out, wanting to enjoy the taste of her fully. He used each hand to pull her hips closer down to the edge of the chair, then to spread her legs out wide. His face was buried in her sex, licking everything, kissing her delicately then biting her _almost_ too hard. He put his tongue inside of her, then enveloped her clit again. God, he was everywhere at once. He couldn't believe her heat, her wetness, though she was like this every time. With both hands on her thighs, she couldn't move well and he was able to control the pressure, the pace. She was using her hands to try to control him, uselessly. They were pressed on the back of his head, nails digging in. Still, he was finally being kind and slowly picking up the pace, the pressure. He felt her tensing and heard her moaning his name. "Please don't stop," she begged… He didn't.

Cuddy's whole body suddenly tensed for a second, then rocked and writhed with unbelievable power, and he felt the waves of her orgasm on his mouth, in his hands on her hips. He kept kissing, sucking, licking her clit, slowly lowering the pressure, riding her wave until it was over and she lay limp in the chair, literally panting. Her head was turned to one side, facing the fire, and her eyes were closed. He just stared at her beauty. Here, when she was truly relaxed, free of her worries and inhibitions, he loved her more than ever. He loved to think that he was the only one who could take her to this place. He sat up a bit on his knees and laid his head on her chest, listening to her heart trying to bust through her ribs. He wrapped his arms around her body and just smelled her skin as she recovered. She looked down at him embracing her and she was so goddamn in love it was retarded. She placed one hand on his head, and used her other fingers to trace his face, his eyes, his lips. He'd kiss them as they passed over his mouth, but otherwise he was letting her get her bearings. It was sweet since she knew he still needed to do her - badly.

After a few minutes her breathing had resumed a semi-normal pace and her heart rate had slowed. "Can you stand?" he asked. She smiled seductively and nodded. He stood up and pulled her up to meet him. He kissed her hard on the mouth, his tongue running along her bottom lip, then chasing hers. His hands roamed slowly over her, groping her breasts, her back, her ass. She was reminded that he had had no release at all, and somehow that idea started to arouse her again. He kissed her neck and slid his hands around her waist, slowly moving behind her. She felt his knee on the back of her leg pushing her to step forward and she was facing the desk. "Bend over, Dr. Cuddy," he whispered into her ear, still gripping her waist. She half sighed, half moaned and bent at the waist, propping her arms on the desk. House sat back in the chair for a moment and sighed. There she was, her skirt hiked up revealing her absolutely perfect ass, thigh-highs and stilettos still on, wetness dripping down her inner thighs. This sight had been in his wet-dreams since he started working for her, but this was the real thing.

"You know when you argue with me in your office," he told her, "this is all I think about. All these years, I have never heard a word you said." She laughed. She knew about his whole office fantasy. Even after they had done it on her desk dozens of times, in every way imaginable, he still loved it. She guessed that's what happened when a guy had the hots for his boss for a decade.

"I hope it's everything you imagined it to be," she replied. "It's better!" he said, "Your ass is at least twice as big as I imagined it." She laughed again as he kissed each ass cheek affectionately and stood up behind her. She heard the soft sound of him sliding his boxer briefs down. He put a hand on either side of her on the desk. She felt his body heat, his erection against her ass. She was already ready for him again. His hands were skilled, his mouth was amazing, but nothing was like him inside of her. She heard him breathing, trying to sound calm but getting overcome with his own desire. He pushed against her, ran his hands down her sides, up her stockings, over her ass. He bent and kissed the small of her back, the back of her neck, then placed his hands back on the desk, right over hers. She looked at his strong forearms and pushed up a little, just to feel his strength pushing her back down.

He didn't even need guidance, he knew her body so well by now. He pushed against her at just the right angle, slowly and smoothly entering her. She gasped and he groaned, like every time. "God, Cuddy," House moaned, just staying still for a moment, getting her used to him. She was so tight, but so wet. It was like he couldn't fit, but could - It was unreal. He started moving now, finding his rhythm. She felt her hips being pushed against the desk, her breasts bouncing as he thrust into her again and again. She was making sounds she never knew she could make and he was loving it. His sighs that moaned a little at the end told her he was in the zone, feeling her and needing her and thinking about nothing else.

Playing with his office fantasy she said, haltingly as he thrust into her, "You know, I _am_ your boss." She could feel him smile, but then – never to be outdone – he suddenly stopped and pulled out of her.

He stepped back a bit, was not even touching her except for his hands clamped over hers and replied, "You're absolutely right. This is completely inappropriate."

"Goddammit, House!" she yelled, needing his fullness back, like, immediately.

He pushed against her entrance, but held back. "Cuddy, the last thing I need is a sexual harassment lawsuit," he teased.

"I could fire you!" she yelled. He laughed quietly and then, just as suddenly, pushed deep inside her again, making her cry out.

"I guess I'll have to make myself indispensible then," he groaned into her ear.

He moved in and out of her, his hands tensing over hers. She was getting so overcome she started to lay down even more on the desk and he moved his hands to hips, holding her steady while he thrust harder and faster. She heard him making little puffs of exertion and she knew he was trying to restrain himself, waiting for her. She was so close, but she knew what she needed. "House, just let go. I want to feel you."

He was done for. He began just wildly pushing into her, and with a long, low growl he came deep inside of her. Knowing and feeling this pushed her over the edge and her muscles squeezed and released around him, a hundred times a second. The whole room was filled with the crackle of the fire and the sounds of their moans and breathing. They were shaking and writhing in sync. He kept pumping into her, but slower and slower, taking himself down. He finally sat back and flopped into the chair, pulling Cuddy with him, never losing their union. They both sat there, panting. Waves still ran through her occasionally, the aftershocks of her orgasm, and he stayed warm and half-hard inside of her. His hands were on her thighs, his thumbs gently rubbing back and forth while he found the world again. Her head was laying back on his shoulder, her eyes half-closed.

She turned a little, to see his face. His head was leaning against the top of the chair's back and his eyes were closed. He licked his lips and, never opening his eyes, murmured, "You're my best friend, you know." Her heart filled, but she also got nervous – these proclamations were rare and she knew could make him skittish, even in this relaxed state. She just replied, "House…" but couldn't finish. "Wilson's alright," he continued, "but he's kind of a bore. And you're definitely better in bed." She laughed quietly, filled both with joy from his expression of love and relief at his ability to diffuse the awkward tension. She kissed the side of his head.

They sat there for a few minutes, maybe forever, just feeling awesome. But Cuddy, just as House had accused many a time, was a bit of a nympho. She felt him still inside of her, still half erect in her warmth, and she wanted more. She sat up and leaned forward just a bit and began to rock very slowly on him. He stirred from his half-asleep relaxation with a small groan. His hands moved to her lower back, and skated around her waist and hips. As she moved around him, she felt him start to harden fully inside of her. "Jesus, woman," House murmured, "You're insatiable." Cuddy just smiled to herself and picked up the intensity a bit. One of House's hands reached around and gently pinched her clit. She sighed and almost purred. He sat forward and moved her hair with his other hand, kissing the back of her neck. That hand then moved around to hold one of her breasts, cupping it, rubbing his thumb over her already hard nipple. "What are you doing to me?" House moaned.

"I can stop if you-" she teased.

"No!" he said, before she'd even finished the sentence. They continued slowly building up the tension again when House said in her ear, "Lie on the floor. I want to see you." She stopped moving and just squeezed down with her muscles for a second, making him gasp ever-so-slightly. Then she got off of him, feeling his absence like a hole in her heart, and sprawled on the floor in front of the fire. Again, he sat for a moment and just took her in. Her crazy tangled mane of hair spreading on the rug and down her shoulders. Her eyes glinting mischievously in the firelight. The way her skin shone, like she was lit from within, and stretched tautly over every hill and valley of her perfectly sculpted body. Then he got up and went and stood over her. He crouched down, grabbed the glass of water she had been drinking when they were playing the game (God, was that the same night?) and chugged it all, hoping it would help him make this successful…

"Don't offer me any or anything…" she chided.

"C'mon, Cuddy. You're used to this, Little Miss Mulit-gasm," he rebuked. "It isn't every day that a _guy_ gets the chance to play a double header. I need nourishment." He made a fake serious face to make her smile her wide smile again. Then he lay over her and she wrapped her legs around his waist. She held his face in her hands and looked into his eyes so long he got spooked and had to look away. He loved her and didn't want to screw it up by making anything weird. He could tease her, objectify her, hell, even insult her, but letting it all out was too risky. So he buried his face in her neck and began sucking her skin, salty from the sweat of their efforts. She moved her hands to the back of his head and guided him down to her breasts. He gladly followed her lead and took one of those perfect globes into his mouth, and as he licked her nipple, feeling it harden even more, he felt a surge in his groin that told him this was going to work. She tasted so good. She smelled so good. She felt so good. He couldn't stop wanting her for a second.

Cuddy felt House's tongue on her breast, his hand groping between her legs. He was clumsier now, all sleepy and loose from having just come minutes ago, but it was still awesome. He was groping her in a more selfish way, not worrying as much about every move he made on her behalf, but just feeling her all over the way he would if he were just thinking of himself. "I want you again, House," she whispered. He looked at her, kissed her gently on the mouth, and slowly slid himself inside her slit. Same groan, same gasp, as always. He pulled his face away and propped himself on his elbows, holding her face between his hands as he moved in her, in so deep, slowly out, then in so deep again. They were both breathing in short bursts, neither trying to act unfazed or in control. They were just plain humping now – no power struggle or games. He felt so good inside of her.

She used her legs to pull tighter around his waist and tilt herself up more, so she could feel him even deeper. He laughed a little and let go of her face, grabbing her ankles and pushing them back by her head while he half sat up and thrust. "There's no place left to go, lady," he laughed while breathing hard, "unless you want an amateur vaginal lengthening surgery." She was panting and felt him hitting the end of her, bending her body like his plaything, and she was so turned on. She moved her hand down to her clit and began rubbing it. He laughed again, "Sorry for the only two arms thing," he stammered haltingly, clearly getting caught up in the passion of his thrusts. He watched her touching herself, and his erection plunging into her, and it was almost too much. He stared at the fire for a moment to calm himself.

"Look at us, House," Cuddy said. He looked at her face, but she was watching their union too, so he looked down again and just then she fell. Her body shook and he felt the tremors all around him. He pushed into her so hard and so fast he had to make himself forget that he could hurt her and just trust that she would stop him.

After five or so thrusts he was coming inside of her again and completely overboard for her. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed, "God, I love you!" There was no censor in this moment. He was completely about her and the pleasure she gave him. Finally, he let her legs go and flopped on top of her, trying not to crush her ribs. She tickled his back and nuzzled his ear and neck while she panted beneath him.

"I always know that," she whispered, almost inaudibly.

They fell asleep for a bit. He had rolled to her side, still with one arm and leg across her and they stared at the fire in a post-coital bliss until their lids were heavy. House didn't know if it was the chill or his throbbing leg that woke him, but the fire had cooled to embers and Cuddy was asleep, but shivering. He got up and grimaced at the pain, but he limped over to the sofa, got his cane, and then went to where she lay, sleeping beautifully. He steeled himself to make one last effort on her behalf that night. He scooped her up. It was silly, but chivalry was easiest for him when she wasn't actually present or was only half-conscious. He knew he couldn't do it without his cane, sore as he was, so he had to stir her a little and have her wrap her legs around him, her head lolling on his shoulder. As he hobbled them toward her room, she whispered into his neck sleepily, "I love you, Greg."

"Yeah, I bet you say that to all the cripples who sex you up and then carry you to your bed," he whispered back. He pulled down the sheets and laid her on the bed. He slipped in next to her and wrapped his arms and legs around her to warm her up. He stared at her peaceful, perfect face and started to feel nervous. This was too much - She could shatter him and it terrified him. He rolled away to stop thinking about all the ways he could screw this up, but he knew from the deep throb of his leg that sleep wouldn't come easily. He reached for the remote and turned the TV on in Cuddy's room, lowering the volume and finding an old crappy kung-fu movie to zone out to.

Cuddy stirred a little. She rolled over and worked her way under his arm her mouth kissing his ribs a few times. She knew his leg was strained from their night and that's why he couldn't sleep. She didn't open her eyes or say a word, but reached one small hand across him and rubbed his wounded leg with long, deep strokes, trying to ease some of the tension out of the mangled muscle. She had done this before and he no longer startled when she touched it, she noticed with happiness. He stared at the movie, wove a hand into her hair to silently thank her both for the gesture and for not talking about it, and he tried, as he did every night, to keep himself from falling in love with her even more. Yet every morning he woke up to find he'd lost _that _game.


End file.
